


Trick or Treat

by FawkesyLady (Tarma)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coworkers - Freeform, F/M, Fandom for Australia Fanworks Auction, Headmaster!Snape, Hearts & Cauldrons SSHG Server's Spooktober Fest 2020, Smut, TartsAndVicarsParty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarma/pseuds/FawkesyLady
Summary: When invited to an adult-themed Halloween fancy dress party at the Headmaster's, Hermione leaps at the opportunity.Spooktober submission and for a FandomForAuz winner. :)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 125
Kudos: 255
Collections: Fandom For Australia, SSHG Spooktober Fest 2020





	1. Chapter One.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Q_Drew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Q_Drew/gifts).



>>*<<

Overhead, the full moon illuminated the witch’s steps as she made her way along the narrow path in the hedgerow separating High Street from the grounds of her destination. She held her wand in her fingers for good measure, as it would not do to get her costume dirty. Sure, it was a rental and probably had seen more than its share of unmentionable stains, but Hermione preferred to maintain the illusion that the white starched robes were as innocent as a nun who’d taken her vows. That was her incognito, after all. 

She strived to be on time, but she had not anticipated there being such a long walk through unlit gardens. The Headmaster was hosting the party at his home in Hogsmeade, and as taciturn and solitary as he might be, surely he could have had some thought for the safety of his guests. A fairy light or two would have done much to ease her journey. 

Her mood took a decisive turn for the worse when she stepped onto a patch of leaves and the hidden puddle of muck ankle-deep underneath. Pain seized as her ankle turned into an unexpected slide. She barely managed to right herself before she fell. 

Huffing in irritation, Hermione pulled her foot out of the mud. “Well, that’s just fantastic.” She shook off the worst of it and rotated her ankle experimentally. _Sprained_. It was a given that there would be potions at the house. If she could bloody make it there without incurring more serious harm on herself.

A glance confirmed that she was far enough away from the lane and into the hedgerow maze that it would be acceptable to use magic, and so she summoned two balls of bluebell flame and set them to hover as sentinels. 

The grounds were quiet. _Too quiet._

“Perhaps the Headmaster has set wards to prevent the party from disturbing the neighbours.” It was official, Hermione was talking to her witch-lights. The light bobbed agreeably. 

Off in the distance, something howled, a long and lonely sound that sent the hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck up on end in spite of her collar and veil. 

“That was a dog, definitely a dog.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, herself or Lady Luck. 

Either way, it was enough to get her moving faster, in spite of her tender ankle. Yes, if she limped just so she could move at a jog. She thanked Hecate and Godric and anyone else who might be eavesdropping for her daily workouts of climbing the steps at Hogwarts.

Out of the darkness an imposing stone facade came into view. Hermione had never been invited here before, so she’d not known what to expect. In truth, she gave little thought to the fieldstone walls, and the timber-framed second floor typical of the Tudor era. There was a warm glow in the first-floor windows. Underfoot, the sponge of lawn changed to the crunch of fine gravel, loud in her ears and echoing back to her from the stone building. 

The dog howled again, and this time the source was much closer. Hermione muttered, “Just a dog. Or maybe a little joke of the Headmaster’s. He always did enjoy a spot of theatre.” She could say it all she wanted, but Hermione knew that the serious man found no humour in werewolves whatsoever from first-hand experience. 

Heart clamouring, Hermione knocked on the door with no other thought than getting inside. 

She did not think to try the bell, nor did she notice the warding etched on the thick oak, for there was movement in the bushes. When her fist hit the door a third time, an arc of magic flowed down her arm. Abruptly, all of the concern she had for her safety and the anxieties of attending a party for the first time at the Headmaster’s drained away, leaving her in a pleasant lassitude. A giggle escaped her as she collapsed onto the front step into a boneless heap, which only made her laugh harder. 

A thread of despair wove through what she recognised dimly as the fog of a clever _Confundus_ hex. She’d wanted so badly to put her best foot forward, not this muddied, hexed and sprained disaster. Why did she always end up making herself a right tit in front of this particular wizard? 

Headmaster Snape was going to be livid. 

  
  


>>*<<

Severus hated Halloween with a burning passion. As it was for Potter, it was the anniversary of the worst day of Severus’ life, and he preferred to spend it alone. 

Unfortunately, his friends, who were burdened with an inflated sense of gratitude and guilt over the events of the war, were determined to keep him from sinking into his customary and well practised melancholy this year. They tried something new every year. This year it was a tarts and vicars party, hedonism encouraged.

It might have worked if Narcissa had not cancelled their plans at the absolute last minute. 

Narcissa forbade him the part of a vicar since he dressed like one every day as it was. She promised to invite a few of her personal acquaintances, ones who were both interested and discrete. It was a well-known secret amongst his oldest friends that Severus had once made a lucrative hobby of sex, lending his masquerade as a tart true gravitas. 

In actuality, Severus’ history went back deeper and further than any of his friends realised. After all, how would they know as well-moneyed members of the elite class? It was one thing to get an Apprenticeship; quite another to have the funds needed to complete such a program. 

Alone, hungry, and eager, Severus stumbled into the trade by accident. His first success was a sweet bartender with a big heart and an even bigger mouth. Yes, Rosmerta was not shy in the least and was a very happy customer who paid not only with hearty meals out of the kitchen but also hard coin. 

He had little to no reputation to begin with, so it was of little consequence to him. Later, his reputation, as sinful as it was, served him well. When he joined the Death Eaters, his experiences in the magical world of erotica widened well past the imagining of a feckless teenager with free access to his muggle Da’s nudie mags. 

Everything is better with magic. 

Over a glass of fire whiskey, he glared at his reflection. He’d not bothered with the glamour he used on a daily basis to make himself look older. Narcissa would have broken it when he walked into their parlour. Besides, it was hardly appropriate for the occasion, and Severus was always willing to follow the proper form.

It was perhaps fortunate that the so-called members of the light never believed the rumours. They didn’t believe that Severus was a whore and hardly needed such ammunition. He was the lowest of the low as a given, one of the indelible natural laws of the Universe. Water is wet. Dark magic is evil. Severus Snape is scum. Even Albus Dumbledore, who understood Severus better than anyone else, _believed_ the press. 

Like the snakes, the vermin, certain types of mould and the scavengers, Severus was above all else a survivor. That he held onto the position of Headmaster, handed back to him after Minerva McGonagall stepped down from the position for her health, was a point of mixed pride. 

What would his colleagues think if they saw him like this? 

The wizard in the reflection was dressed to the nines, taking advantage of his natural height and lean figure. Subtle differences in the modified dress robes drew the eye where he wanted it to go. He was hardly going to change the habit of a lifetime, therefore his high-waisted trousers were black, tailored perfectly from black sateen that used the light to display his assets. He fancied that Minerva would have had an aneurysm if he showed up to work in these. 

The silk shirt, tucked in, was cut so that his chest was on display from neck to groin. If he’d wanted to disguise his identity, a simple sunshine in a bottle would give him a healthy tan; but given he had to work tomorrow and didn’t care to waste his time brewing the antidote, nor did he want to field a veritable flood of questions from Professor Granger about what he’d been doing tonight, he had dispensed with the notion. The mesh panelling on either side of where the button placard would have been was embellished with embroidery that depicted a suggestive morass of snakes intertwining with one another, their powerful bodies shimmering in silver thread and giving away flashes of his secret vanity beneath as they writhed in serpentine ecstasy. 

The sleeves of the shirt were cut close, the fabric stretching as he bent his elbow to bring his glass back to his lips. The long row of onyx buttons and exaggerated cuffs were the only other nod to his usual mode of dress. There were no layers or suffusions of fabric to billow about his person as he moved. His usual dragonhide boots were swapped for soft leather-soled shoes with a heel. 

He wore no rings or jewellery. A swipe of kohl framed his eyes, a better disguise than any mask. He disliked masks, to be honest. 

Damnation, he’d even washed his hair for this. “Curse you, Narcissa. What a waste.” 

It was true that he could just as easily go out, seek another venue of distraction. Trouble was, Severus respected his station as Headmaster at the school enough to not wish to call attention to himself in this way. It would be indulgent and highly unwise. He didn’t have the excuse of a green lad, capable of only thinking with his prick like that odious little shit, Ronald Weasley. 

At least Granger was well shot of him. Even her capacity for loyalty and forgiveness did not extend to allowing Weasley to go unanswered for airing the details of their love life, or lack thereof, to the greater Wizarding World. The falling out happened before a wedding, thankfully. 

She deserved better. 

Severus sneered at his reflection in the mirror. “She’s not for you, either, so you can stop right there.” 

The witch was as beautiful as she was unobtainable; lovelier and more practical than a so-called English rose, and as deliciously shapely as a sun-ripened peach. He’d harboured fantasies about taking a juicy bite of her pert arse ever since she’d joined the faculty fresh from her Master’s programme in America. Her manners were different from those of the girl he’d taught, now alive to the nuances that had escaped her before. To his professional eye, the oldest of his professions, she had grown into her maturity as a witch, polished and self-assured. A welcome change that suggested that she’d had a rather wider education than the Salem Charms Institute advertised in their pamphlets. Lucky sots.

Still, in comparison to an old wolf like himself, she was an innocent. 

Speaking of wolves, a howl sounded from the grounds. His wards would keep out the highly undesirable werewolves, but his neighbour’s idiot hounds seemed to always be slipping free of the fences and took particular joy in chasing the infestation of rabbits who’d taken up in the patch of wilderness at the back of his property. 

He stepped to the window and peered out into the darkness, trying to make sense of the shadows that peopled the nightscape. The full moon provided some illumination, but a ball of blue flame hovering close to his front door grabbed his attention. “A will-o-wisp? No, that makes no sense.” 

It was then that he noticed the heap of rags… no, the _person_ slumped on the ground directly in front of his home. 

Swearing under his breath, Severus abandoned his drink to investigate. The dog howled again, closer still. It had been decades, but even now that sound made his heart lurch in primal fear. 

Flinging open his door, Severus cast a barrier ward before bending down to investigate the nuisance who’d forced him out into the open. 

“Of course. It would be you.”

>>*<<


	2. Chapter Two.

>>*<<

Granger had fallen afoul of his loiterer deterrents, _spectacularly_. 

Her manner of dress struck him as odd but he was in too much haste to wrap his mind around the plot that was ensnaring him with expert ease. 

It wasn’t the neighbour’s dog. A huge hound, possibly a crossbreed of Hagrid’s boarhound with one of the moon wolves of the Forbidden Forest launched itself at them, running snout-first into Severus’ enchanted wall of air with a sharp whimper. It was not, thankfully, a werewolf.

The silly wench at his feet giggled. “Trick or Treat!” 

Keeping an eye on the barrier and the dog, who tried and failed his luck again with a snarl of frustration, Severus crouched and gathered the cursed witch into his arms. She was a solid, comforting weight and the subtle scent of an unusual perfume filled his nostrils. Inanely, the back of his mind provided a name to the scent, anise. Very odd. 

“Wow. You look amazing, Headmaster!” Granger was blinking up at him owlishly, sparing no attention for the creature who’d resorted to barking out its aggression. 

Off-balance and thoroughly discomfited, Severus shut his mouth against comment and retreated with his uninvited guest into the house.

Only when he’d shut and locked the door did he cancel the Jelly-Legs Jinx. The  _ Confundus _ might serve him if only to aid in his interrogation and so he left that in place. With some effort, he managed to get Granger’s feet onto the floor. 

What he did not expect was for Granger to turn as white as her -- good God is that a nun’s habit?! -- and collapse with a pained squawk. 

“What are you doing here, Granger?” Severus gritted his teeth, fingers twitching to search out the source of her injury. His mind needed to understand her presence here Most Urgently as an ugly suspicion already was taking root in his psyche. 

The silly witch lifted up her head and shook the veil of her nun's cap free so that she could meet his eyes. “Admiring your waist, sir. I think I must be hungry because I just had the urge to use your spectacularly well-defined rectus abdominis as a cheeseboard. I could get at least three varieties on there and still have room for the olives.” The earnest way she answered his question disarmed him even as the alarm claxons were banging in his subconscious. Her pretty face crumpled into a pained grimace as she shifted, trying to right herself. “Cauldron slinging does that? I think I need to date a potions master.” 

“Yes.” Severus’ brain caught up with his mouth. “NO!” He wrenched his eyes away from her and looked upwards, for strength and said, “Why are you here on this particular night of nights in that … costume?” 

Back to giggling, Granger looked up at him balefully. “I was invited.” She began groping about in her pockets, looking for the most assuredly counterfeited document. “I wanted to come...” 

The witch was still babbling but Severus’ brain, already primed for a romp for which he was past-due came to a full stop. Apparently, he was best suited to hear only words which could be interpreted in a sexual manner, and he muttered, “Narcissa, I am going to murder you.” 

“... congratulate you on cultivating a lovely treasure trail, sir and oh I think that if you just opened your shirt I could admire that delightful line that goes from hip to groin? I do like those, perfect for licking. What did Ginny call the iliac furrow again?” Her eyes, which had been locked onto his person in a very familiar way flew back up to his face, bright with triumph, “Cum gutters!” She swiftly covered her mouth with her hand, as if she could take the words back. “I probably should not have said that.” 

Tomorrow. He could murder the Malfoy widow _tomorrow_. His Sunday was unscheduled for once, and that would do nicely. Like a tea kettle fit to boil, Severus let his pent up breath seethe out of him in a long, controlled exhalation. “Granger, That  _ Confundus  _ hit you square on.” 

His conciliatory words fell on deaf ears because Granger was too busy, snorting in mirth. He could make out some reference to the erstwhile Care of Magical Creatures teacher in between her jags of laughter. 

“Are you planning on spending the rest of the evening on the floor? I do happen to possess a variety of furniture that is better suited.” Severus held out a hand. 

Granger appeared to be regaining some of her composure for she stared at him for a long moment. “Well, I suppose the party isn’t down here, now is it? Although you could join me if you like. I’ll even make you my plus one on the invite.” Instead of accepting his hand to help her up, the witch produced a rumpled appearing invitation and offered it to him with a comically pensive frown. “Is that what a male tart looks like these days? Fascinating. It takes confidence to carry off I should think.” 

The scent of anise wafting up from the parchment was nearly overpowering and the clue clicked into place. Dogs are attracted to anise. This was no accident. 

“Tarte aux Headmaster. You were invited as well? It says your house! Of course,  _ you  _ don’t need an invite. Silly of me. The floor is part of your house. Very nice, really. If you haven’t been down here you should try it. The tile isn’t too cold, although I am afraid I have tracked in some mud.” She was slowing down, her spell-fueled mania loosening its grip on her. “I recommend more light in the hedge maze for next time.” 

Holding back his dismay, Severus accepted the invite and examined the contents. If he didn’t know better, he would have mistaken the calligraphy for Narcissa’s elegant hand. The twist of the cursive R was particular to his godson. “Draco, that little shit! I’ll skin his balls and feed them to that dog for this trick.” 

Silence fell between them. Severus worked to control his anger, grinding his teeth in irritation, lacking a target. He kept his glare away from the witch, who he reminded himself was in the balance much worse off and as much a victim as he was.

At length, Granger quietly said, “On further consideration, I would be pleased to accept your invitation to a chair. Or a couch. Or… whatever.” 

The pained tone of her voice helped to push his thoughts of revenge away for later rumination. “Of course.” He grasped her upturned hand and pulled. Granger’s hand clutched at his and she wobbled dangerously, balancing on only one foot. Severus’ arm was the only thing preventing her from toppling over. 

She gasped, “Damn, that smarts. I don’t think I broke anything. Here, let me stand.” She pulled her hand free of his support and tested her balance. “Not too bad. I was walking on it earlier.” 

“I neglected to inquire after your injury. My apologies, Professor Granger.” The nun’s habit swathed her form fetchingly, hinting only at the delights hidden from his admiring gaze by layers of white fabric. 

The witch flinched, although the source of her distress was not immediately evident on a second visual examination. “I twisted my ankle. I should have realised that there was something off about this. You’d never let welcome guests stumble through the dark and mud only to jinx them at the door.” 

“My invited guests arrive by floo, Professor.” Severus recalled his manners and used his wand to relieve her of the mud from her shoes and the hem of her habit. “You must not feel that although unasked that you are unwelcome.” With a flourish, he offered her his arm in support.

Her eyes widened, probably shocked at his gallantry. He’d given her little enough cause to expect otherwise. “Thank you.” Her grip was tight and she leaned on him heavily as she began hobbling.

After a few paces, Severus rolled his eyes and stopped them. “You are limping worse than a lame thestral. Here, allow me.” Not waiting for her permission, he hooked an arm behind her legs and lifted her up and carried her into the parlour. 

“Thank you, sir.” Granger avoided his eyes as he set her down on the couch by the fire that Cissy preferred. 

At last, the Confundus had worn off and Severus was surprised to find that he was sorry for it. He preferred the breathless musical way she’d uttered “Headmaster”earlier in contrast to the colourless honorific, “sir.” Of course, she had been spouting poetry about his body at the time which added to the charm. Shaking off those dangerous thoughts, he asked, “May I see your ankle?” 

Granger sucked her lower lip into her mouth and nodded, still avoiding eye contact. 

Acting on instinct, Severus knelt down beside the sofa, bringing his face to a more even level with hers, harder to avoid. “If you would prop your legs up on the cushion?”

She was blushing and the effect was quite fetching on her. 

When she didn’t move immediately, Severus patted the cushion, as though she were a cat or a small child who needed encouragement. 

After stealing a look at him she let her lip go and swivelled, placing her leg up on the sofa but only the one. In doing so, she exposed more than he bargained for. Her costume was fashioned with slits, cleverly concealed behind the black novice’s smock, held in place by a wide leather belt. She’d understood the sexual undertones of such a theme party quite well. 

In form, her leg was a sonnet to health and youth, her calf shapely, her knee sweetly rounded and her ankle trim. Her skirt split high, exposing the creamy skin of her inner thigh, and he had to swallow before he drooled. Good Godric, what else was she hiding under there? 

Unable to help himself, Severus traced the lines of her leg with an admiring hand hovering above but not touching her skin. The lingerie she’d chosen was campy, with stockings that had alternating black and orange horizontal stripes that exaggerated her curves. Delicately done applique work in the shape of bats in flight swarmed about the cuff at the middle of her thigh, held in place with suspenders secured with a ribbon tied in a neat black silk bow. 

It occurred to him that she was going to have to remove the stocking if he needed to use a salve to treat her injury. Closing his eyes he attempted to yank his libido-addled mind back on task. 

He turned his head toward her foot before allowing his eyes to open once more. “I haven’t seen these shoes before, Granger.” The ivory kid three-inch heels with black patent trim topping the toes in a decorative bow that was both entirely ornamental and very atypical for his practical colleague. 

At last, he perceived the swelling on the outer plane of her ankle where it disappeared into the leather. A twinge of sympathy moved him as he said, “May I take off your shoe?” 

“Of course, thank you.” Wincing, she lifted her leg so he could slip her foot free. 

Feeling on firmer moral ground, he allowed himself to touch her, supporting her foot by the ankle as he probed the tender area. She did not cry out or pull away when he lightened his touch, letting his hand linger unhappily. “This will definitely bruise. I have just the thing for it.” He let her go and set the shoe to the side. 

She had her hands clutched in her lap, her back rigid as if waiting for some phantom blow to fall. Well, that was something Severus understood. She’d dipped her chin in acknowledgement as he moved to stand. 

“There are pillows here. Make yourself comfortable, Granger.” He paused, recalling his manners. “May I offer you something to drink as well?” 

His show of good manners appeared to further discomfit the witch. “I shouldn’t impose, whatever you are having?” 

He let out a sharp laugh. “Whiskey hardly seems thematically consistent. Wouldn’t you prefer some communal wine?” 

Granger screwed up her face in recognition of the barb. “I do enjoy port.” 

“I have some cider that Pomona shared with me. Some of her extended family own an orchard somewhere in Wales.” He tried for a reassuring smile. “You’d be doing me a favour, it is too sweet for my taste.” 

An answering smile brightened the witch’s face. “Oh yes, that sounds good!” 

He took himself out of the room, and while he could have used magic or summoned a house-elf, he desperately needed some distance to recover his composure. 

>>*<<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to LunaP999 and Qdrew for their help in beta-ing.


	3. Chapter Three.

>> * <<

  
  


Hermione was a mess. Sure, the Headmaster had spelled away all of the mud, but his manner of dress was most definitely not that of a priest and she was fairly certain she’d seen something very magical in his trousers that hinted that he’d not necessarily resigned himself to a quiet night alone. 

The trouble was that she needed to decide what to do about it, and quickly. 

She considered the wizard. She’d never seen him involved with anyone. Rumour whispered he’d taken a vow of celibacy, while others who had more right to know had hinted at quite the opposite -- which Hermione never believed until tonight. 

Was the Headmaster secretly a Casanova? She hoped that it was true and that Draco wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on her. 

Did she dare extend an invitation of her own? It would be genuine, unlike the forged one that led her here. She was going to make Draco pay for that. Oh yes, she’d have her pound of flesh from his perfect white hide.

But first, she would make the most of the night and the opportunities afforded her. Her instincts sang to her that this was the right moment and that she had but to reach out and grasp it, if she had the courage. 

Her heart slowed as she summoned her serenity and began to plot her campaign. Failure was not an option. 

  
  


>>*<<

  
  


As Severus returned, balancing bruise salve and Granger’s glass of cider in one hand, he noticed a change in the witch. Her shoulders were more relaxed and her warm amber eyes met his own unflinchingly. She accepted the cider with a smile, saying, “Thank you.” 

“No trouble. Now, if you would remove your stocking, Granger.” 

The witch’s eyes widened a fraction. “Would you please call me Hermione?” 

Severus was confused, answering, “If I must. Now, Hermione. Please remove your stocking before that ankle swells to the size of one of Hagrid’s pumpkins.” 

“May I, at least for tonight, address you by your given name?” She did not appear to be cowed by his answering glare and said, “If I am about to remove my stocking, I think that is enough cause to claim this smaller intimacy, is it not?” 

Annoyed, Severus waved a hand of permission. “I suppose you have that right. The other faculty members already take that liberty. Why should you be different?” 

Hermione shook her head, causing a curl to escape her veil, fetchingly settling along her cheek. “Oh, I would never assume, sir!” 

He answered her with a snort and a hand gesture. 

She’d already had colour in her cheeks, but her face reddened markedly as she put down her cider on a nearby low table. “You see, Severus, I need your help. My stockings are secured by enchanted suspenders.” 

Intrigued, Severus leaned in to take a closer look. “For chastity?” 

Dropping her voice to a near-whisper, she said, “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.” By illustration, she tugged at the ribbon with her delicate fingers, and the bow held firm. “It won’t respond to me. I think it has to be removed by someone else.” 

Severus produced his wand and touched the tip of it to the suspender, silently preparing to cast a slicing hex. 

Granger… no,  _ Hermione _ stopped him. “No good, I am afraid. I warded them against sharp things so no one could play a trick on me.” Her mouth twisted in wry amusement. “Perhaps I went a bit too far.” 

“So, just to understand. You cannot remove the stocking yourself, and I cannot use magic to cut it free.” 

The Gryffindor looked away, colour blooming high in her cheeks. “Correct, you have to…  _ untieitwithyourteeth.”  _ She’d blurted out the last, like a guilty Hufflepuff who’d come to his office to confess. 

Shocked, Severus stared at Hermione. He had underestimated her, no doubt the effect of her costume. The heels should have been a dead give away. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. When had his mouth become so dry? Damnation! 

As the silence lengthened between them, Severus took a second and a third look. She was breathing fast and shallow, her eyes were dark, dilated but not from too little light. Her hands were not clenched but loosely folded in her lap. 

She licked her lips and said, “Severus, I did not intend to make you uncomfortable. I could just go through your floo to Madam Pomfrey if you’d prefer?” 

The anise was gone. Hermione’s proper scent, violets and something tantalisingly sinful that he could not quite identify filled his nostrils as he inhaled, breaking out of his shock.  _ Like hell _ , he thought. At last Severus’ tongue loosened. “That will not be necessary. I am capable of performing this office. Besides it would be such a sin to let you return to the castle…” he paused, thrilling at the way she leaned forward in anticipation before he dropped his pitch and purred, “...disappointed.” 

Her hands twitched, betraying her would-be-calm facade. “Oh...um. Fantastic.” 

“After all, the night is quite young.” He scooted over and lifted her foot, supporting the injured joint as he shifted her close enough that he could rest her knee against his chest. 

The change in position forced her to lean back against the cushions with a gasp. 

Encouraged, Severus examined the little black bow. Such a simple decorative touch, but philosophically it was a Gordian knot of risks and deeper implications. 

“I have a request, Severus. The last one I shall make of you tonight as Headmaster.” Her tone was firm but he could not detect any fear or censure. 

Keeping her leg as it was, Severus tilted his head in interest. “I am listening.” 

Hermione lifted her chin in what he recognised as pride, or perhaps defiance. “I should like to go on sabbatical.” 

“What?” Severus’ stomach turned to lead. He had no wish to replace his Charms Mistress. “When?” 

A crooked grin lit up her face. “Now. I think I should be quite recovered tomorrow. Certainly by tea-time. Less than 24 hours, but leave all the same” 

Severus was tempted to pinch the little witch for the pain she’d caused. Still, this was better than what he’d worried about moments ago. “And what do you propose to study in your absence, Professor Granger?” 

“Not what but who, sir. He’s a rather fractious character, I am afraid.” 

“Are you sure that a mere eighteen-hour sabbatical will be sufficient?” 

The witch bit her lip, her eyes on his hand, where it rested on her thigh. “I doubt it, but it allows for a pilot study, which could provide a jumping point for further work.” 

“Working hypothesis?” 

Hermione’s grin was back, and she glanced up at him from under her heavy lashes, “The devil is really an angel in disguise.” 

“Oh well, you speak of Lucifer, the Morning Star. He was an angel and that’s common knowledge, but he fell…” Severus stopped speaking, getting a better idea of where she was going with this and not sure he liked it. 

She shook her head. “Lucifer was cast out, for his ambition.” Her fingers lightly grazed his hand. “The brightest and most beautiful of all save one. But no, my devil is a more accessible case.” 

“Hermione, I have no deeper designs for you to study. No altruistic motives at all, only carnal desires and a need for distraction. I would not blame you should you demur. Say the word and I will see you safely back to the Castle.” Her obvious youth was giving him pause, although it went against his own urges to offer her this chance to escape, it was the right thing to do.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Hermione asked, “And is it your desire that I give up this line of investigation?” She huffed, waving him down when he opened his mouth to refute her. “Severus, I believe that together we might just get a glimpse of Heaven and the attempt is enough.” 

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of a faculty member’s personal enrichment, especially in the name of such a…” Severus slowly moved his hand and pushed her skirt completely open along the split as he finished saying, “...high purpose. I have seen hell, and would like a glimpse of what the other side has to offer.” 

Hermione’s eyes crinkled with mirth, the tension smoothing away from her brow and mouth. “Thank you, sir.” When she smiled practically glowed. “It is quite a privilege.” 

Severus’ mouth went dry and his throat tightened. The sincerity of her open admiration simultaneously pleased him and reminded him of how different he was to this paragon of the light. “Some would disagree.” He experimentally tugged at the black bow with his fingers. 

She shook her head and answered, “They can go fuck themselves. They don’t know what they are talking about.” 

That made him snort. “And you do?” 

“I am a card-carrying insufferable know it all. Look it up, it’s in the official records.” She smirked, “Right next to the O in potions I earned on my NEWTs.” 

The little black bow held firm. Smart as she was, Granger wasn’t particularly good at obfuscation in ordinary circumstances, so he had to believe her assertion that he needed to use his mouth to undo it. “Very well, we shall undertake this experiment.” He bent down, locking eyes with her as he allowed his lips to brush the flesh of her thigh. Her skin was warm and impossibly soft when he kissed her. 

Hermione watched him avidly, her soft brown eyes darkening as her pupils widened. 

Her scent, stronger from this position, spurred his libido to increasingly heady heights. All lingering doubts regarding the wisdom of this development sublimated away like dry ice at a muggle club. Yes, this was definitely better than retiring with his bottle of fire whiskey. 

As he took the end of the ribbon in his teeth, her mouth opened with a soft little gasp. When he applied pressure with deliberate and achingly slow precision, her breath stopped. The little black bow, when Severus judged the tension was sufficient, gave way with a satisfying pop that made her jump. 

Now for a little experiment of his own. He knew Hermione did some sort of physical exercise, for she could keep up with him and keep nattering on without losing her wind all the way from the great hall to the owlery, and all of the steps that entailed. But was she flexible too? Before she recovered herself too much, he pressed her knee up and back to expose the back of her thigh. 

The witch’s muscles loosened after a moment’s hesitation with a little shiver, and she let her head fall back on the cushions behind her. 

On impulse, Severus placed a kiss on the soft flesh of her thigh, gaining a close view of her knickers. They were black and barely there. It took discipline to withdraw from that position, but he used his nose to trace a path to the second bow holding the stocking in place. He paused to glance up at her leg, which she held straight up towards the ceiling with the poise of a dancer. A chuckle escaped him, and he commented, “Always elevate an injured joint. Good of you to remember. I find myself distracted.” 

Hermione’s eyelids had lowered so that she could watch him through her lashes, but they widened at his words. The colour in her cheeks intensified as she appeared to be about to say something, but instead shook her head and giggled. 

“Is something amusing?” 

Her face glowed brighter still as she slapped a hand to her mouth, a transparent effort to stop her laughing. 

Severus called up his authoritative voice and drawled, “Perhaps you’d care to share with the class?” 

She covered her face with both hands, and from behind them the brave Gryffindor said, “I think I need to spend the night with both legs up in the air, don’t you?” She paused to fail in suppressing a naughty snigger and added, “For health reasons.” 

Instantly his imagination responded to the suggestion, with vigour. “Perhaps for the earliest part of the evening. My salve will have your ankle back to rights before long.” He turned back to the task and located the second bow and tugged it free with his teeth without ceremony. 

The suspender recoiled with a snap and Hermione twitched with a sharp, “Ow!” It had been under more tension than the first. 

“Whoops.” He drew out the pronouncement playfully, exposing and admiring her as he pulled the silk stocking down her leg, sliding back so that he could lower her bare foot to his lap. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, watching as he opened the jar of salve. 

Severus passed it under his nose to test the odour before dipping two fingers to secure a sizable dollop. On contact, his skin began to tingle and lose colour. The sap of a flower native to Siberia called Winter’s Kiss or  ледяной поцелуй was integral to the mechanism of action of this particular salve. The loss of colour from whatever it touches is an unfortunate yet temporary side effect and worth it, for nothing set such an injury to rights as quickly. He wanted this witch to be hale, for pain of this sort was not the sort that added to pleasure. 

“Hssssss!” Hermione recoiled from the cold shock to her swollen ankle. “What is that, ice drake piss?!” 

Grimly, Severus drew her ankle back into his lap and continued to massage the chilling salve into place. “Miss Granger, such language. Tsk tsk.” The swelling was dissipating right before his eyes, the skin draining of colour where it touched. His fingertips were also losing colour, but given his skin tone, it made little difference. 

“Fuck off.” She was glowering up at him, but he could tell she didn’t really mean it. For one thing, he still had his bollocks intact. 

He placed the cap back on the little glass jar and then met her glower with a smirk of his own. “Here I thought you were a God-fearing nun. Such  _ a dirty mouth _ .” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Is that what you really think of me?” She continued to look supremely put out. “A silly, chaste girl with a bland vocabulary.” 

“Not silly nor bland, witch. In truth, I am not certain what to think about you, Hermione. I hate to make assumptions. Why don’t you tell me your fantasy -- what you had in mind when you donned this provocative lingerie and then covered it up with that virginal nun costume.” He kept her perfect little foot in his lap, the whole of the outer ankle bleached to white by the salve. 

She crossed her arms across her chest and looked away. “I should have thought it obvious.” 

“Oh, I think you can do better than that.” 

Hermione’s cheeks flared with a blush of embarrassment. “Is it that important?” 

“Tsk.” Severus considered the witch. She was nearly two decades his junior but he had understood her to be experienced sexually. Her health classes for the Gryffindor fourth years were certainly better received than the lectures given by Minerva. Well, he’d never met a witch who didn’t like a foot rub. If she relaxed enough, maybe she’d let him take off her other stocking. 

She tensed up when he shifted his position. “What?”

“Shh. Just think about it. I’m still working on your… healing.”  _ Smooth _ . Severus winced internally as he began to run his thumbs up and down the sole of her wounded foot, applying light pressure. 

Hermione let out a long sigh, her toes curled down not in pleasure but in a defensive way. “I don’t want anything too… messy.” She grimaced. “You know, anything with non-sexual bodily secretions.” 

“Like Ice Drake piss?” He smirked. “No, that’s not actually in that salve. It’s vegan if that helps you feel better about it.” 

The witch smiled in return. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” She relaxed a fraction as he worked up toward the ball of her foot. 

“I should have thought it obvious for one so widely read as yourself.” He tried to say it without his usual edge of disdain and had been afraid he would fail. He was rubbish with compliments. The way her eyes brightened at the backhanded praise enchanted Severus. Good Godric, she’s lovely! 

She kept blushing, falling into silence. Her muscles were relaxing under his fingers as he worked and he marked when she began watching him from under her lashes. 

“So if there had been a party tonight,” he paused with a self-deprecating smile before saying, “consisting of more than just the two of us, what did you have in mind?” 

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes widening in alarm. “I am sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Come now. You are a lovely, single witch with a successful career. I am sensible that your duties to the school keep you cloistered away entirely too much but surely some unworthy wizard has caught your eye?” 

She looked down, letting out a soft sigh that changed into a sound of pleasure. “Men either find me unattractive or intimidating, for the most part, I’m afraid.” 

“Most of your male peers are addlepated numpties.” He was using more force now, bending her toes and twisting them slightly. “Always imagined you’d find someone more suitable when you left the UK for your Mastery studies.” 

“I did meet a few fellows, but they were all too…” She rubbed her fingers together as she searched for the right word, “American? That’s probably unfair. None of them had much depth. They liked my accent, but were frighteningly casual about relationships which was an advantage at first, but ultimately a disappointment.”

Severus scoffed, “Love them and leave them? I am surprised.” 

The witch shrugged, her eyes sad and unfocused. “It isn’t as though I had much to offer.” She held up a hand, “No, really. I didn’t want to stay in Salem forever. America is very backward when it comes to muggles, and I was very focused on my research. Since Ron, I’ve not really met anyone.” 

The dunderhead had broken up with Hermione after she’d left the UK to study. It hadn’t made the papers but he’d believed it to be mutual. Perhaps that was his own dislike of the youngest Weasley boy colouring the story. Best push past that sticky subject. “Not a single wizard has held up to your standards?”

Rather than rise to the insult, Hermione answered earnestly. “Well, it isn’t as though there are a lot of men beating down my door… er. Severus. And yes, I do have standards.” 

Severus held his tongue, raising his eyebrows in a silent invitation for her to continue. He didn’t think she was aware of the way that she was melting back into the cushions and her eyelids were beginning to droop as he worked his magic on her foot.

“I suppose I could handle a well-mannered mental inferior, particularly one who is very pretty but only for a while. I’d not be able to respect him and using him for sex and emotional support alone would be unethical. Those rare wizards who can use their minds and possibly keep up with me are largely emotional infants -- selfish and dependent.” She’d allowed her head to loll back on the pillows. “Manipulators who don’t want a witch who won’t play their little games.” 

Deciding he was finished with her injured foot, he lifted it to his shoulder. When she lifted her head to look at him, her wimple came loose. Underneath, her hair was tightly braided in a crown that encircled her head with little wisps of curls that managed to work their way free forming a halo that framed her face. Under her scrutiny, he took her second foot into his lap. She’d already allowed the shoe to fall free earlier, although he’d not noticed exactly when. “Have you considered women?” 

Hermione snorted - a very unladylike sound. “Unfortunately all of the good ones are taken.” 

“Rolanda Hooch?” He wasn’t serious, but he was curious to hear what she had to say. 

He saw her belly ripple in reaction, a nearly silent laugh before she said, “She’s persistent enough but I don’t really enjoy aerial erotic sports. Besides, she is just chasing anything with legs, isn’t she?” 

“Perhaps.” He’d allowed her to catch him a few times but it was only for the exercise, and he had no illusions on that score. At least she didn’t tup and tattle. “She does have a talent for a good story.” Hooch entertained the faculty with stories of her latest travels regularly and was a shade more interesting than Hagrid’s gushing about the latest creature from France. 

She shrugged. “I… I don’t really need anyone. I am happy enough with my work and the students. Outside of that, people only seem to need me to solve their problems. I am plain and I tend to bore the weak-minded into a stupor unless they are bold enough to break free. I wonder if Medusa had these problems. At least she had her hair to talk to.” 

“Taliesin’s tears, witch!” Severus was unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. She certainly was an intellectual snob, but was her self esteem as a woman this low? “Soon you’ll be sharing the sherry with Sybill!” 

Hermione turned her head to eye her glass of cider. “Doesn’t sound like the worst idea, honestly.” 

“Don’t try it, it isn’t worth the hangover. I have done, and she ruins the mood every time.” He worked on her stocking covered foot, which was pleasant enough but he had ambitions that would not be served by letting her fall asleep on his settee. 

The witch let out a groan, which was tempered with a light sigh. “Have you ever given a woman an orgasm with a foot rub?” 

“No, although it is theoretically possible.” He saw no reason to lie. 

She giggled. “You make me believe. Gods, Severus. How are you so talented?” 

“Practice and passion for the subject. Talent has little to do with it, I fear. Here, I can do better.” Not waiting for her to catch up, he moved her leg to the side, opening her hips and bent down to undo the ribbon in the back, which didn’t snap as hard this time. So near to her open legs, he got a stronger impression of her scent. There was nothing quite like the tangy musk of an aroused witch, but this one was particularly enticing. His mouth watered, and he had to swallow lest he embarrass himself. 

“Oh! Okay.” Hermione watched as he undid the second bow on the front, her little pink tongue darting out to lick her lips in what he dared to hope was anticipation. 

He had to reposition her ankle on his shoulder before rolling her stocking down and removing it. “So no other… preferences I should be aware of?” 

“I am interested to see what you have to offer.” She looked him up and down. “Is that really how gigolos dress?” Her hand flew up to her lips. “Oh! I didn’t mean to be rude.” There was a caution in those soft brown eyes that made him wince, echoing ancient history where words were used as weapons, but she wasn’t that girl and he didn’t have to be that man. 

Severus grinned through the pain and said, “I’ve been called worse. Besides, I wouldn’t accept money from you tonight any more than you are going to try and convert me to the one true God.” If she only knew. 

“Vocational work for us both, then?” Her smile was bittersweet. 

Severus dropped the second stocking to the floor and retrieved their glasses, passing hers over before lifting his in a toast. “To a higher calling.” 

The witch’s eyes warmed as she lifted her glass in response. “Or a lower one, depending on where you stand.” 

>>*<<


	4. Chapter Four.

>>*<<

  
  


For a long moment, Severus paused to stare at Hermione as he struggled to rectify his urges to ravish the naughty witch who was draped over his person in a most alluring way against an impulse to laugh as she wickedly quipped an answer which made her nun’s habit patently ridiculous. He settled on a “You have kept yourself cloistered too long in the ivory tower, I believe.” 

Hermione knocked back her glass, finishing off the last of the cider. She set her glass down and let her leg slip off of his shoulder before holding her hand out to him. “Give a lady a hand, won’t you?” 

Severus vanished his glass and took her hand, expecting to have to stand, but her leg was still in his lap, her other about his opposite hip. Before he had a chance to rearrange things, the witch pulled and he was forced to brace himself lest they both end up on the floor. 

The witch straddled his thighs with her bare legs, her body heat palpable through the layers of black and white robes. “Thank you, kind sir.” Her eyes were bright as she thanked him so prettily. 

Was that her heart or his, hammering against his breastbone? Severus held still, a little lightheaded as the blood rushed downwards. Surely he hadn’t done enough to warrant that sort of attention. What little bit of his mind was left functioning answered almost automatically, “I will... make sure the garden is illuminated in the future.” 

“Severus?” Her eyes were locked with his, focused and determined. 

His answer came out with an embarrassing whinge, “Yes?” But what else could a bloke do when a lady was practically sitting on his cock? 

“No more talk.” She lowered her lips to his and claimed a sweet kiss, pressing herself close. 

He closed his eyes and opened himself to her. 

>> * <<

  
  


By the time Hermione had divested herself of the thrice-damned veil, cap, and wimple she thought she was going to spontaneously combust. The unfair thing was that she was wearing appropriate lingerie but her costume was entirely too cumbersome. That said, the £45 she’d lose if she didn’t return it weighed on her conscience. She panted with the effort, shaking her head to let her sweat-dampened curls spring loose at last. Most of her hair was braided into a crown, the only way her hair would fit into the costume, but there was nothing short of a _Petrificus_ to keep it tamed for longer than for a few hours.

They’d paused to catch their breath after a very promising bout of heavy petting and she wanted more. 

The wizard beneath her was holding her hips steady, resting against the pillows on the end of the sofa. He was watching her with those black eyes that saw everything, discounting nothing. His hair was mussed in an artful way and his thin lips were plump with her kisses. 

“Am I…?” Hermione bit down on her tongue too late. She’d wondered if he was enjoying this as much as she was, and if she was getting it right. It was a ridiculous thing to ask, she knew. He was intoxicating and she was proving to be an awkward sort of drunk. 

Severus’ eyebrow lifted in query. 

How was it that the wizard could manage to convey so much meaning with a mere twitch? Flustered, she dropped her eyes and fingered her belt buckle. The leather was too new to have worn down yet. 

He purred, “Are you what? Brilliant? Certainly.” One of his hands loosened its grip long enough to caress the curve of her buttock before returning to her hip.

Silently she shook her head as she tried to suppress a shiver of pleasure that coursed over her at his praise. What power he had with his voice. He was a menace to her knickers. 

“You aren’t plain, Hermione. Are you lovelier than the sunrise on the best day of my life? I hope that I’ve yet to see that day so I cannot say for sure, but I am inclined to believe it so.” One corner of his mouth tugged upward in a faint, lopsided smile. 

Hermione was shocked by her chagrin, her mind focusing. “That is remarkably optimistic, Severus. Romantic, even.” 

“Minerva tells me it is a sign of character growth, but I am convinced that it is a harbinger of senility.” 

Unwittingly Hermione smacked him on the chest. “Don’t say such horrible things. I won’t have it.” 

“Passionate enough to defend me even from myself.” His eyes glittered with amusement. It was charming. “How could I ever win?” 

The belt buckle came loose and Hermione held it in her hands for a moment before she noticed that he had gone still. “The foundations of victory can be built upon such a surrender, Severus.” 

“Lose the battle, win the war?” His eyes were locked onto the belt in her hand, his face lined with all too familiar tension. 

“Shh.” She opened her hand and let her belt fall to the floor with a clink. “No wars tonight. I am on sabbatical, after all.” 

His kiss-ripened lips pressed into a thin, rueful smile. “Ah yes, how crass of me to forget. Whatever shall we do with your time off?” 

Making sure she had his attention, Hermione lifted herself up on her knees and began to pull her tunic up, bringing the black scapular with it. It was simple, the neck wide enough to allow her messily braided hair to pass. She did struggle with getting the arms free, but the groan of approval she heard made the whole effort worthwhile. 

“Gods, Hermione!” His grip on her hips tightened. “You are incredibly sexy.” 

She lowered herself back down, bringing her lace-covered sex into intimate contact with his trouser-covered lap with a gasp as she made contact with an unmistakable rigid bulge. The chill air of the parlour began to work on her, but she didn’t mind. The heat between her legs was enough to melt away any self-consciousness or scruples she might have had left. 

Her wizard was watching her, eyes wide and dark with desire. He hadn’t moved since she removed her tunic, perhaps afraid that if he did she’d disappear. She ground herself against him, and his eyes rolled in reaction. 

Would she mind if he came like this? Well, honestly no. Still, she had hoped for more from this particular wizard. Well, if she wanted it done right, Hermione knew she could do it herself. Maybe he would like that. 

Using her hands, she skimmed along her thighs, up her sides to her breasts. The shelf bra she wore was more magic than fabric, with hundreds of little bats on the wing flocking around the soft fullness of her breasts, leaving the rest uncovered. She’d gone to the trouble of using a balm there as she really enjoyed it when a lover would play with her, suckling and teasing with lips and teeth. Between her arousal and the comparative cold of the room, her nipples were already crinkled and tight. She hesitated, checking to see if Severus was still with her. 

“Keep going, angel. You are so beautiful. Be a good witch and show me what you like.” His voice, usually as smooth as molten chocolate was roughened with lust. His hands on her waist kept her steady, but he remained still. 

She shut her eyes, focusing on the flood of pleasure that roared through her at his encouragement. Her breaths were coming harder as she lifted and twisted her nipples, two-handed. She fed the tension building between her legs by rubbing herself against him in counterpoint, thrumming with need. Someone let out a low whine. “Oh… ohhhh…” ... _that’s me._

Severus lifted his right hand from her waist and muttered a charm. “Look up, Hermione. See what I see.”

Above them, the ornate plasterwork ceiling had transformed into a mirror. If she hadn’t been so far gone, she would have seen her hair escaping in wisps and her flushed skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. 

Hermione was caught in the intensity in her partner’s eyes, the hunger that made her heart startle like a hunted hare, leaping too late to escape unscathed. Glittering with powerful intelligence, those dark, hooded eyes pierced her heart with a jolt that she felt to her very core. Promises were hidden in those depths, the most seductive sort of vow made with the force of a threat all in a single, lingering glance. 

She had dreamed of this longer than she would ever admit. He was aloof, dark, and so very strong. His control as he glided across the duelling floor in her second year had become her ideal of masculine grace. Now he was looking at her, really looking at her as a woman. Whatever he was offering, she wanted it. “Yes, please.” 

“Yes?” His grip tightened on her hips, stopping her movement. 

“I want you, Severus.” She stopped what she was doing and shifted backwards, dropping her head so she could look directly into his eyes. “Fuck me.” As soon as the words were out of her she searched his face for a reaction, any reaction. 

He was still for a moment, so still that she started to worry. Then his eyes narrowed for a fleeting moment before he surged upright, one of his hands supporting the small of her back so that he maintained contact as he shifted out from under her in a fluid motion, leaving her sitting upright on the settee. 

Stunned, Hermione opened her mouth but could think of nothing to say. She’d expected him to do anything but get up and walk away from her. God he’s beautiful, she thought, as he rolled his hips as he walked. Then he halted and looked back at her over his shoulder with a wicked smirk. It was the sort of look that made knickers vanish in a puff of smoke. 

“I was hoping you would say that, Hermione.” 

>>*<<


	5. Chapter Five.

>> * <<

  
The way he said her name resonated deep in her chest, leaving her light-headed. All she could do was sit and watch as he turned back toward her, shedding his shirt with a twitch of his well-muscled shoulders. The way he stepped toward her was mesmerizing, slow and confident. 

Severus was down on his knees before her in the blink of an eye. He grasped her by her hand and kissed it, watching her. When she didn’t object, he placed her hand on his shoulder and with a scimitar grin bent down to nuzzle her inner thigh. His breath was hot against her sex but he did not touch her there. “Do you need a potion?”

Emboldened, Hermione combed her fingers through his hair. “No, I have it covered.” 

“Good girl.” 

The way he positively purred the rare praise made Hermione flush all over in a wave of erotic heat. She opened her legs, inviting him in. 

Smiling in gratification, he wrapped his hands around the backs of her knees, drawing her forward to the edge of the sofa before following up with a two-handed caress along her outer thighs. 

When she lifted curious fingers to touch his hair, he turned his head to place a light kiss on her wrist before grasping her hand to drag it down his chest. Just when she would have needed to bend to go lower he rose up in a fluid motion, and her fingers caught in his waistband in what she thought was a rather slick manoeuvre. 

Severus raised his hands above his head in a back-bending stretch that showcased his abdominal muscles all the while staying close enough that she need not let him go. As his hips rocked in the natural cascade he placed a finger under her chin, tipping her face upward for a brief, searing kiss. 

The settee cushion dipped on either side of her and Hermione found herself with a lap full of wizard, who was moving to a silent, primal beat. “Gods, you are amazing.” Her voice was dry and cracked as she spoke. 

He had slipped back down onto his knees once more and seeing that he had her attention he thrust his hips upward, moving as though he were attached to a rope just from his belt line. With each thrust he came closer to her and before long he was kneeling very close between her legs. 

Hermione squealed as she was abruptly pulled forward, pressed against his naked chest. Skin to skin. His hands grasped her arse and lifted her up off of the sofa, perched neatly against him with her thighs grasping his waist. The position offered her several advantages, including a better angle to kiss him. She was dimly aware that he was walking them away from the parlour, savouring his mouth and the feeling of him against her. 

On the stair, Severus stopped to pin her against the wall, breaking their kiss to look up at her with a wicked grin. “Witch, we are just getting started.” 

Her laugh changed to a shriek of delight as he spun her around and laid her on the floor just on the top step. The strength and control needed to do this impressed on her how invested he was in her safety. 

His fingers hooked in the sides of her knickers, which were in the shape of a bat in flight done in lace. He paused to check with her, his eyebrows lifting. 

Smiling and very much liking the feeling that she was being unwrapped bit by bit, Hermione lifted her hips in permission. When he’d shimmied the bit of fabric down to her knees, she pulled her left leg up, disentangling it first before hooking her foot behind his shoulder in an effort to bring him closer. 

“Patience. Isn’t that one of the virtues you nuns are supposed to aspire to?” He slid her knickers free of her other leg and balled them up in his fist, taking a whiff before tucking them into his back pocket. She lay, exposed to him and the world. 

“No. Three vows are required: poverty, chastity, and obedience.” Hermione wriggled feeling naughty indeed. “Shall I start praying the rosary? I am afraid I’ve no intention of following any of them.” 

He smirked and said, “Well that’s me relieved. Hate to be responsible for corrupting such a sweet woman.” Not waiting for her reply, he focused on exploring her with lips, teeth and tongue. A wisp of magic and her breasts too were exposed. 

A soft sigh escaped her lips as he nuzzled at her breasts. Shivers of anticipation rippled through her as his breath ghosted over her already taut right nipple. She was so keyed up by the time he delicately licked the tip that she felt herself get wet. 

He must have noticed the caramel flavoured salve she’d applied earlier because he said, “Christ, Hermione. Did you… did you prepare yourself just for this?” His voice was rough with feeling, a low rumble that resonated straight to her core. 

“Yes, please. Please, Severus.” She arched, reaching for more of him. 

Severus was not so gentle now, sucking her nipple between his clever lips and tongue. After letting go of the first he turned his attention to the second with his mouth, his fingers reaching up to tweak and twist. “You are utterly delicious, Hermione. I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.” 

Hermione had never felt so alive. Every inch of her was sensitive, crying out for more of this magical man’s touch. She was afraid that this might be enough to send her over and she didn’t want that just yet. Turning her head, she caught the suggestion of movement in a framed painting on the stair. A nervous giggle escaped her as she voiced the worry that had just struck her, “How many portraits can see us?”

Severus’ shoulders shrugged under her hands, hands which she’d wrapped about him in her need to get closer. “Do you care? They won’t tell of what they see here, bound not to.” 

She’d intended to use words, but he’d slipped a hand down to cup her sex, which made her gasp, “Jesus, don’t you dare stop!” When he shifted to rest his head on his free hand so he could look down at her, she caught the teasing glint in his eyes and glared back, weighing the benefits of knocking his smug arse down the stairs versus tying him up and having her way with him. 

“My, my. What has gotten into you, novice?” Severus moved his hand to lightly trace fingers up her belly. It tickled.

Hermione tried to control her impulse to squirm. “Some devil’s bewitched me and I am burning with unholy lust.” She pouted up at him, adding, “Won’t you save me from this torture, good sir?”

Those expressive lips tilted up in a smirk worthy of the one who has all of the cards and knows it. His hand danced up her torso to circle her breast in a closing spiral with shiveringly precise control, teasing her nipple to stiffen and sit up even more than the cold air had achieved. 

It was all she could do not to scream in frustration. “Severus...” She’d meant to keep the whine out of her voice but she just couldn’t help herself. “Please?” 

He lowered his head to whisper in her ear, “Please, what?” 

The bastard had taken her nipple between his fingers and pinched it, the blending of pleasure and pain dragging a loud cry out of her. “Oh!” Panting, she searched for words, her courage flagging in the face of being made to ask for it. “Damnation! Fuck me! Now!” 

His hot breath warmed the side of her neck as he said, “Such language!” The man’s tone was sinful and suggested that he rather approved of her vocabulary. He nipped at her ear and murmured, “How shall I do this, hmm? Do you want my mouth on you?” 

She whimpered, “Hurry!” She ached with arousal. Anything would do. She was having difficulty focusing. 

“Mmm. And my hands? Shall I fuck you with my fingers?” He was making his way down her neck with lips and teeth but she was well past caring. 

“All of it! You, I need you, Severus. Your mouth,” she said, threading her fingers into his hair as he shifted to plant a knee on the step below, between her legs. She didn’t care that she was pleading as she continued, “your hands, and your cock. All of you.” 

His body moved over hers, and she arched, skin thirsting for skin. “And so you shall have it.” 

The cold air of the hall bit at her when he lifted away from her to kneel on the stairs. 

“Remember. I said to elevate your legs, Hermione.” He dipped down and pulled her left, injured leg so that her knee rested on his shoulder with deceptive ease. 

Her brain, largely bypassed by her sexual drive, failed to provide words, witty or otherwise. She lifted her head, and whatever goofy expression she had on her face must have satisfied him. 

Severus grasped her by the hips and purred, “There’s a good lass.” With a wicked smile, he was upon her, parting her open with a swipe of his tongue that mapped out the length of her sex from quim to clit. His mouth was hot and warm against her and oh so right. 

Hermione couldn’t reach him so she lifted her arms behind her head, hands clasped tightly to one another, her grip tightening in a mirror of the coil of tension built inside her. She had no more thought for who might be watching, painted or otherwise. 

Her Potions Master was painstakingly thorough, noticing that her clit was exquisitely sensitive -- direct contact that made her tense up and wince. Carefully, he lavished attention on her, drawing sweet pleasure from her, teasing her higher and higher with every swirl of his tongue.

“Hah hah aaaa hah,” was all she could get out, crying out to the rhythm he was laving over her. A pattern was emerging, but her pleasure-befuddled mind was having trouble holding onto the details. 

When she thought she was about to break, her voice dry and straining he shifted downward, pressing his tongue deep into her, his nose pressing on a spot just below her clit that felt amazing. 

Her face was numb and she was getting light-headed. “Fuck, yes! Like… that! Oh!” The new sensations of being stretched, the pressure of his tongue thrusting inside her just so set a spark ablaze deep inside her, one that propagated into the inevitable. Although she could feel the orgasm thundering toward her, she couldn’t make a sound, bracing herself in the tension that teetered on the razor edge of completion. 

The world shifted in a blinding orgasm that rocked her body, waves of sensation pulsing out to her scalp, to her very toes. Still, the steadfast wizard nuzzled and licked, gentling her through the aftershocks that made her legs tremble and her hips buck. 

When at last she got her sight and a modicum of strength back, she lifted her head and found him still seated on the stair between her legs, his hands rubbing her thighs in soothing circles. “God almighty, Severus!” Her voice cracked and was breathy still, but she had to say it. “You’re amazing. Wow!” 

He looked away with a little crooked smile. “You enjoyed yourself?” The smug bastard. 

“Maybe.” She let her head flop back onto the carpet, wrapping her arms about herself as she started to feel the chill. “At least a little. Better than an A, low EE, I think.” She wasn’t about to let him think she was done for the evening.

“Hmm.” He slipped her legs off of his shoulders, to her relief. She had begun to get the feeling back and the burn in her muscles was starting to assert itself. Severus said, “And what, I pray, would improve the experience?” She recognised that tone as the one he used when she diverted a discussion in a faculty meeting away from his approved agenda. 

She held out her hands to him, and in spite of the slight frown on his face, he obliged in helping her sit up. “For one thing, the enjoyment was rather one-sided.” They were roughly on the same level now and she could smell herself on his face. His skin was slick with sweat from his effort. 

Severus arched an eyebrow. “I beg to differ. Making you fall apart in my arms was...immensely gratifying.” 

“But…” 

He pulled her tight against him, pressing her sex into his erection where it strained to break free from its fabric confinement. As he ground into her, he growled, “Feel that? Feel how hard I am.” 

“Oh, fucking fantastic! Here, let me...” Hermione moved, meaning to work his trousers off when Severus’ hands slid down her back to grasp her buttocks. She squeaked in surprise at the sudden movement as he stood up with her in his arms, forcing her to hold onto him. 

“Patience, novice. Patience.” 

>>*<<


	6. Chapter Six.

>>*<<

  
  


Hermione spluttered, “What? Where are we...?!” 

Severus stopped her with an open-mouthed kiss, distracting her curious mind with a demonstration of his passion. She knew what he was doing, but he was so compelling. Severus tasted of sweat and the earthy tang of her own juices, a combination which she found that she didn’t hate. As they kissed, he strode down the hallway toward an open door, which he kicked closed with his heel once they were inside the darkened chamber. He was breathing hard as he crossed the room. 

They broke the kiss, gasping in the dark. Hermione was the first to speak. “Too dark. Need to see you.” 

Severus pulled her closer to him, ducking his head to nip at her neck with a throaty laugh. “As the lady wishes.” With a neat motion, he had her off of him and dropping a short distance to the soft, springy bed below with a startled squeak. 

It was strangely arousing to her, laying naked in the dark, straining to hear the movements of Severus Snape and she shifted back on the bed before deciding to sit up on her knees. Hermione wanted her turn to touch him, to explore. It was all too tempting to let him take control again, but she felt it only fair. 

“Shield your eyes.” 

Hermione looked down, thankful for the warning as a fire leapt to life in the small heart in the room. Impressive. She wondered if it connected to the school. Feeling it safe, Hermione lifted her gaze to take in the dark silhouette before the fire who stood in a fluid motion from where he’d knelt a moment before. 

The flames were magical, throwing off a blue glow as they danced in the grate. More hypnotizing was the way the wizard moved. He had clean lines, each movement a hymn to masculine grace. A twitch of his hip released his trousers to pool at his feet on the floor. There was nothing beneath, and as her eyes adjusted she could make out the shape of his cock. 

It took very little imagination for her to fill in what was hinted in the shadows. “Sweet mother of divine, you’re so hot, Severus.” He stood as still as a statue, perhaps encouraging her inspection. “It is a sin that you have to wear clothes on the daily.” 

He snorted, “I should think the Board of Governors would have something to say about that. Would you like to teach starkers?” He must have been tense, for his shoulders relaxed as he teased her back. 

“Might secure the students' undivided attention, I suppose. I am on sabbatical, and work is the last thing that should be on my mind, you wicked man.” She lifted a hand toward him and beckoned. “Come here, Severus.” 

The Headmaster let out a throaty chuckle before saying, “Mea culpa. What shall I do in penance?” He paced closer to the bed, each step unhurried. Candles on either side of the bed flared to life, bringing his features further out of the shadow cast by the fireplace. 

“Stop there.” Hermione studied the man intensely, looking him up and down. “You will stand still while I meditate on the mysteries before me.” She licked her lips, wanting nothing more than to rub herself all over this wizard. 

A subtle lift of his chin made her smile. “How long?”

Stifling a giggle, Hermione tilted her head and said, “I will let you know. I’ve never given the Headmaster detention before.” 

Severus closed his eyes, his hands clenched in fists for a moment before he made an obvious effort to relax. “Cruel lady.” 

“So little distresses you?” Hermione levered herself up, testing her legs (good, no longer numb) before taking a tentative step to the side. Reaching out she touched his hand with one finger, deliberately running it up his arm, mapping out the curve of his forearm, tracing lightly up his bicep to his shoulder. 

Under her finger, his skin was warm in spite of the chill of the evening. He did not turn his head as she stepped around him, although he was watching her, his eyes following her from the shadows. 

She felt them before she could see them, innumerable old scars that draped his shoulders and back like a parody of a complicated lace shawl. Closing her eyes, she flattened her hand on his shoulder and paused. 

He tensed but held his silence when she applied light pressure to her grip. No, this wasn’t the right moment. She didn’t particularly want to think about her own scars or the war either. 

“Shh. Peace, Severus.” When he didn’t relax, she placed her second hand on his opposite shoulder and inhaled deeply, letting his scent fill her mind. As she exhaled, she shoved her dark thoughts aside and opened her heart. Clearly, this nakedness and intimacy were not as easy for him as she’d allowed herself to believe. 

As she circled back into his peripheral vision he swayed, dropping his head with a barely audible sigh. 

Keeping both hands lightly in contact with his skin she completed her circuit and then letting her hands drop to his waist, she knelt. The floor was covered in a gorgeous Persian rug, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable. Still, she was determined. His scent was stronger from this angle and she took a moment to admire him, letting her hands slide down to his thighs. 

His face was curtained by his hair but the weight of his stare on her was unmistakable. “Hermione?” 

“Yes?” She looked up, hoping that her smile was enough to set him at his ease. 

Severus’ Adam’s apple bobbed once before he spoke, his voice quieter than before. “Hands are okay, but not your mouth. Please.” 

_ Oh. _ Hermione’s heart stumbled over the implications.  _ Steady on. This is not about you, silly girl. _ Willing her voice to be steady, she said, “Absolutely. Are you still with me, Severus? I would like to touch you.” 

He answered silently with a nod. He’d gone partially soft, she could see that more clearly now.

“Thank you, Severus. Now, guide my hands? Show me what feels good.” She waited with her hands resting on his thighs.

After a slight hesitation, Severus complied and pulled her right hand to cup his sac, her left to grip his shaft. “I … have other things to show you, witch. Once your…” His breath hitched as she let her hand glide up to slick her palm with the evidence of his arousal. “Nngh. Once your curiosity is sated.” 

“Mm. Haven’t you met me? I am very curious.” 

A shiver of his abdominal muscles betrayed his politely silent laugh. 

Biting her lip, Hermione looked up at him in interest as she idly stroked his cock, admiring its thickness as it hardened in her hand. “What sorts of things?” 

He tilted his head back, letting his hands drop away from hers. “Did you know there’s a position called ‘the nun’?” 

A rush of excitement set her pulse racing and she said, “Teach me.” She continued to explore, changing her grip, moving slowly. 

“Have I sufficiently steered your mind back to only naughty thoughts, novice?” He spoke louder now, his timbre low and rich, and made her want to make him happy more than anything. 

“Yes!” 

His chuckle was a low, melodious sound. Perhaps she’d been a mite enthusiastic, but he didn’t comment -- instead asking, “May I move now?” 

Embarrassed, Hermione let her hand go still. “Of course! I am sorry. I should have said...” _Merlin!_ _Bad form, Granger._

“Peace, Hermione. Your hand feels heavenly, but I’ve set my heart on fucking you.” He pulled her hand away from his cock and up to his lips so he could nip her knuckle. “If you are still interested.” 

His teeth were sharp but didn’t break her skin, the pain fleeting, leaving behind it an ache elsewhere. The way he looked at her pulled a tidal-wave of heat that washed over her skin, threatening to overflow. She had the oddest feeling, as though she were slipping free of gravity, falling upwards into those intense eyes. Dilated, she could barely mark where the irises gave way to his pupils. “Abso-bloody-lutely.” 

That drew another laugh from the usually sombre man, which blossomed into a full-on laugh as Hermione leapt up and tugged her ex-teacher toward the bed as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  
  


>>*<<


	7. Chapter Seven.

>>*<<

  
  


Severus had been with more women than he cared to enumerate. In fact, he had made something of a career of it in his younger years. No two women were ever the same, but in spite of his experience, Hermione kept surprising him. 

This woman… this  _ witch  _ was different. 

He had thought at first that it was him. It had been some time since he last let himself sink into the pleasures of the flesh, after all. It was not so unbelievable that the pleasure would be intensified following prolonged abstinence, was it?

When he took her on the stair, it was with a whimsy and spontaneity that was entirely alien. He had patience.  _ Control.  _ And yet he could not even wait to take her to a bed just down the hall. 

She’d wanted to give him a blow job, although he didn’t think that it was out of some Gryffindor sense of equity. Old wounds, scabbed but never healed, marring his psyche were too intertwined with that act. It was never a matter of trust - just bad memories. 

Granger’s intellect and compassion, blended with her maturity served him well in that fraught moment. She hesitated for the blink of an eye... and moved on seamlessly, wanting him. 

It was doing odd things to his innards. 

He already admired Granger, but she’d always been off-limits in his mind. 

Yet, here she was, letting him release her magnificent hair from its binding with sighs of pleasure as his fingers buried themselves in singular tactile delight. She was trim, but the cloud of curls that sprung loose down her back made her more beautiful, simultaneously wild and paradoxically delicate. 

It wasn’t that she was bossy precisely. She was fully engaged.  _ Delightfully vocal _ . 

“Teach me!” Those two words shouldn’t have been such a turn on, but Merlin’s mouldy mandible, he didn’t think he could be any harder. 

  
  


The way she knelt on the bed, pulling him along to coach her into the proper position for the nun had him deliciously off balance. The way she bounced a little on her heels (doing lovely things to her tits) in her eagerness to please him, to explore with him was so very different, so strange. 

When Severus shifted behind her, it was difficult not to grin back at her as she twisted her watch him over her shoulder.

Hermione followed his instructions with enthusiasm and was, unsurprisingly, a quick study. She settled on her knees between his open legs, giving him a prime view of her bare back. With a quick roll of her hips she eased back, sinking down onto his engorged cock. Despite the position’s name it was Severus who was the one praying wordlessly. 

She paused partway down, and he could feel a pulse … a beat where they were joined. It was not that of his own heart which was hammering double-time. Was it hers? Her skin glowed with a sheen of sweat. He could hear her breaths coming fast and shallow. 

Those thoughts slipped away as she moved again, taking more of him inside of her with a keening sort of gasp as her sweet backside made contact with his pelvis at last. She’d braced her hands on his legs and he could feel her trembling, her head bowed forward as she pressed back into him. 

He could, at the lady’s whim, grip her hips and provide a driving force from behind, which from this angle was guaranteed to give her pleasure. The advantage of this particular position, unlike if she were astride him like the reverse cowgirl, was that she had more freedom of movement as her weight was entirely resting on the bed rather than his body, affording her equal leverage and thereby control. Equal and reciprocal. 

Just when he was starting to get some blood back to his brain, she began to move. 

He cried out, a jagged hoarse sound that he only faintly recognized as his own. The sensation was more than he was prepared to handle, raw pleasure breaking in waves as her heat consumed him. The visual from this angle only intensified the pleasure, and he had to look away before the sight of her shapely bottom moving up and down on his cock made him lose his mind. 

“Am I… am I doing this correctly?” Granger twisted, looking back at him over her shoulder with a determined expression that was disrupted when she groaned and took him in even more deeply with the slight change in angle. She was glorious, her body glistening with the sweat of exertion and highlighted by the warm glow of the candlelight. 

Deep in the recesses of his brain, Severus was incensed that she could still speak in grammatically correct sentences. No, that would not do at all! Forcing himself to focus on his breathing, Severus grunted and placed steadying hands on her hips, stopping her from galloping off with his self-control before he was too far gone. “Quite well.” He licked his lips, blinking away the candy-floss fog of ecstasy just enough to say, “Switch? I want to show you…”

She moved before he could finish and he guided her and supported her as she eased off of him. The comparative cold of the room air was bracing and he was gratified to see that she was out of breath. 

“On your back.” He let her hips go so that he could lever himself up on his elbows. 

Some women moved with grace. Not Hermione Granger. No, she clambered over his leg, leaning on him enough to make his knee hyperextend. She was practical and followed his instructions to the letter with a flop. 

Trying to ignore the creak of his own body, Severus sat upright. He caught her looking at him with wide eyes. Well, his cock which twitched in acknowledgement of her attention. 

She blushed when she met his eyes and said, “You continue to amaze me, Severus.” There it was. She was doing it again. 

“Is this so unexpected?” 

“No. I… I don’t know what I expected, but I do know I want you.” Hermione reached out and slid a hand up his thigh. Her words were soft, only just audible over the crack of the fire. “You are an amazing person, Severus.” Her hand wrapped around his shaft and she added, “Now, I believe you were about to teach me something new?” 

Severus gasped in surprise when she grabbed him, choking out, “Wicked woman.” He moved her hand off of him and grabbed her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed by her thighs. 

Laughter changed to a shriek of surprise as Hermione settled into place. She didn’t seem quite sure what to do with her legs, but her eyes were alight with avid curiosity. 

As he gained his footing, Severus couldn’t help but smirk. “Don’t forget to keep your legs elevated, witch.” He guided her feet to his chest and leaned over, bending her nearly in half as he braced himself on one hand. His smirk widened as she watched him, with the slightly open mouth of the utterly transfixed. 

“What? What…mmph!” Hermione was cut off as he gathered her closer with his free arm and kissed her with fervour. 

He felt her back arch under his weight, her hips tilting in invitation. Both of them gasped as the head of his cock nudged its way between her folds, rubbing against her clit before finding the way back to its true home, seated deep within Hermione. 

Then she was calling his name and his world narrowed down to all that was her. Her curls were wild and fanned out about her on the midnight dark velvet of his bed, shining with the reflection of firelight. The way her eyes rolled as her orgasm built drove him onward, chasing her cries as they rose higher and higher, her body hot and her skin slick against his own. 

It was instinct that guided him, his hips snapping in a steady and punishing rhythm. Below him, the beautiful witch was holding onto the covers, canting her body to meet his thrusts. He craved release but could see in how tense she was that she was nearly to the edge, her eyes shut and brow furrowed. 

“Hermione. Good, you are so … very good. Heaven...” Good Godric, what sort of drivel was this tripping from his tongue? 

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Oh, Gods, she was  _ smiling. _ “What, love?” 

His balls were growing heavy and he felt like he could fly. Fuck, why did she have to say that? In for a knut, in for a galleon, “Can you see it? It’s right there. I see it reflected in your eyes.” He put his back into it now, “Heaven.” 

“Oh! OH!” Hermione’s eyes flew wide and she shuddered in a back-breaking orgasm that rocked both of them upwards, a flood of warmth dowsing him as his vision began to dim. 

At last, it was all too much. Pleasure ripped through him with concussive force, the world going white and soundless. He might have made a sound, but he was too overwhelmed to mark it.

When he finally came to, Hermione was wrapped around him, murmuring in his ear softly. “...wonderful. Come back to me, Severus. That’s it, wake up.” 

Severus was vaguely aware that he was still laying on her, although she’d managed to wrap her arms and legs about him so he didn’t slip off of the bed, half on and half off as he was. With a grunt, he rolled his weight to the side and used his legs to pull them both up the bed. 

It was Hermione who cast the cleaning charm, making them both comfortable. It was Severus who pulled her close into a comfortable embrace. 

Of course, she fit against him perfectly. 

Her whispered, “Thank you,” did not seem so ridiculous in his post-coital fog. 

“Of course.” As he slipped back into slumber, Severus mused that it was he who should be thanking her. 

>>*<<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go, loves.


	8. Chapter Eight.

>>*<<

  
  


Draco awoke on Sunday morning to his mother knocking on the door. “Draco, pet. Time to get up. Brunch date.” 

Squinting into the autumnal sunrise, Draco became alert. “What brunch date?” 

“Our usual. It’s Severus’ turn.” 

Sitting up in alarm, Draco shook his head. “But we were cancelling, because of the party.” 

“Pish posh. There wasn’t a party, was there? You talked me out of it. I still think it was a capital idea, but you were right. Dear Severus needed to brood alone, it is traditional.” 

Feeling a trifle light-headed, Draco says, “And he probably won’t appreciate us trespassing on his hangover.” 

His mother’s tone suggested that she actually looked forward to it. “Well, he is a competent Potions Master. If he can’t treat his own condition, I don’t see why I should be made to do without sustenance.” She smiled sweetly and patted his cheek, saying, “Don’t worry, my dragon. His elves know we are coming.” 

“But mother…” 

Her indulgence would only go so far and her tone sharpened. “No, Draco. I won’t let him stew in his depression. You talked me out of yesterday, but I intend to make certain that he comes out of it. It is what friends do for one another.” She tossed a robe at him. “Get up and get dressed. _Now._ ” Narcissa used her motherly tone of absolute authority. 

Draco’s life flashed before his eyes. He was so screwed. 

  
  


>>*<<

Severus woke slowly for the second time that morning. Hermione had coaxed him awake before dawn, pleading sweetly for another round. It was a matter of personal pride that he had no trouble performing so soon, but now he was aching in ways that reminded him of his age. 

_ Worth it.  _

Her hair tickled his nose, and somehow some of it had ended up in his mouth. Clumsily he peeled the offending locks away from his face so that he might live another day. Asphyxiation by beauty wasn’t that bad of a way to go, but perhaps some other time. 

She still had at least another six hours of leave by his counting. He closed his eyes, pleasantly considering what could be done with the gift of time and Hermione’s company.

The door to the bedroom swung open on silent hinges, and the patter of little feet approached. 

“Yes?” Severus tried to moderate his tone so that his guest might not wake, but it was not to be. She stirred in his arms. 

“Headmaster sir, brunch is in half an hour. We thought you should knows.” The elf’s ears and large eyes were just above the level of the mattress. 

A sinking feeling robbed him of his strength. “Right. Of course, they’re still coming. The party was cancelled.” 

“Severus?” Hermione turned over, lifted her head off of his shoulder, and then noticed the elf. “Oh hullo, Pots. Good morning to you.” 

The elf flicked his ears. “Good mornings to Professor Miss.” Was it Severus’ imagination or did the elf look amused? “Will you be joining the Headmaster for brunch?” 

“I will discuss it with her and let you know, Pots. Be off with you.” _You little bugger._

Before Hermione could protest, he was gone with barely a pop. “Severus. You didn’t have to toss him out.” 

Stretching, Severus growled before turning over to pin the giggling witch below him. “I am naked in bed with you. I assure you, I most certainly did.” 

After a brief wriggle and protest, Hermione melted into his kisses. He rather liked how mussed the usually entirely practical and put together witch had become. This debauchery was his doing and it made him hard. 

Hermione broke the kiss with a sorrowful look on her face. “Oh! But what about … brunch?” 

“Mmm. Brilliant idea.” Severus licked his lips and revelled in the startled look of comprehension as he disappeared below the sheets to feast on his lover. 

  
  


>>*<<

  
  


Severus did not give a fuck when Narcissa made a startled squawk in surprise when he slouched into his chair at the breakfast table where he’d kept the pair waiting. As if nothing was amiss, he greeted his oldest living friend with a tight smile. “Good morning, Narcissa.” He turned his head to glare at his godson. “ _ Draco. _ ” 

It was amusing to watch the little worm wriggle on his hook. It was subtle, for he didn’t fidget or shrink into his chair. Only the frightened glances he cast to the doorway gave him away. 

“Good morning, Severus.” Falsely bright, Narcissa looked between Draco and her host before venturing, “You seem well.” It went unsaid that she expected to find him otherwise. 

Accepting his tea from the elf at his elbow, Severus let himself grimace. “I am.” Normally there would be a question in return, but he did not feel it necessary to observe such forms. “There was a spot of trouble with a dog last night. Fortunate that you floo’d in.” 

Narcissa made a face, “Don’t you have your door warded to the nines still? Those reporters are relentless, even now.” 

Placing his cup back on its saucer, Severus did not move to serve himself breakfast. He had not asked for another place to be laid at the table either. “I do. I have no idea why the mongrel beast decided to attack but it wasn’t able to get through.” He snorted. “It goes without saying. Looked like one of your cousin’s hunting hounds, but that wouldn’t make sense.” 

Across the table, Draco’s face had gone entirely white. 

“Draco?” Severus kept his tone mild. “Do you need a hang-over cure? You look unwell.” 

“No! I mean. Did… did anyone get hurt? Where is the dog?” Draco drummed his fingers on the table in his agitation and looked about ready to leap up and find it. 

“How would I know? I would hardly let any mongrel in on the full...” He broke off as Draco stood abruptly.

“Excuse me, mother. Severus. I forgot that I needed to check on something.” With that, Draco was out of the room. 

Narcissa was staring at him in confusion. “What is going on here? And why do you look like a cat that’s been in the cream?” 

Severus arched a brow and took another sip of his tea before muttering, “Wait for it, Cissy.” 

As if on cue, Hermione drifted in, looking a little worse for wear. She looked at the table, set for three and with a slight lift of her brow looked to Severus for direction. She had taken his offer of a shirt and jogger and transfigured them a little, but not so much that they were not recognizable. 

Standing as a proper host would, Severus took her hand, kissed it, and then drew her down into his lap as he regained his seat. “How is your ankle, Hermione?” 

The little witch wriggled in his lap, finding a comfortable spot. “Much better, thank you, Severus.” 

Narcissa rolled her eyes, having much of her curiosity satisfied. “Good morning, Professor Granger. Would you like a cup of tea?” 

“Oh yes, please! Good morning Mrs Malfoy.” As she accepted the cup of tea, made precisely how she liked it - milk, no sugar, she added, “Oh, and thank you for the invitation to the party last night. It was only me and the Headmaster, but he’s a consummate host.” 

Severus choked on his own spit. He could feel Hermione’s shiver of silent laughter. He muttered into her curls, “You will pay for that, witch.” 

To Severus’ deep pleasure, Hermione blushed bright red precisely as Draco barrelled back into the room. “Severus! I can’t find…” He skidded to a halt. “...Granger. Oh. There you are.” 

Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, Narcissa asked with all of the aplomb of a pissed off Ice Queen, “ _ Draco _ . What did you do?” 

Hermione put her tea down, perhaps in an effort to not spill it as she giggled.  _ Giggled _ . 

“I, um. There must have been a miscommunication. Professor Granger, how...” Draco looked nervous and awkward standing there. It was delightful. 

Having pity on the wizard, the witch cut him off by saying, “Just Hermione, please. I am on sabbatical until tea time.” 

“What are you doing here?” Draco may have been trying to obfuscate, but he voiced the question with the weight of an accusation instead of actual concern. Severus may have growled.

Frowning, Hermione laid a hand on Severus’ arm, preventing him from hexing the little shit where he stood for asking for explanations where he deserves none. “I fell outside on the way in. An angry dog was chasing me through poorly lit paths, and all of this with a sprained ankle in heels, mind you. Well, I ran smack into those clever wards on the front door and thankfully the Headmaster here…” 

Severus tensed. He didn’t really like being called that, sabbatical or not.

Hermione glanced at him and amended, “Sorry, love.  _ Severus  _ came to my rescue -- the only lucky part of the whole evening.” She turned her glare on Draco, who stood looking like he was about to bolt. 

Narcissa scrubbed at her face with a shaking hand. “That is quite a tale. I am so glad that you are alright.” She turned her frown back to Draco. “You are in trouble. Don’t think that just because you are a grown wizard that I can’t bend you over my knee and thrash you!” 

“Mother, you’ve never…” Draco’s voice trembled. 

“Apologize.  _ Now. _ ” There was no room for argument. Severus wondered at the power this woman still held over her child. 

Turning to Hermione, Draco bowed at the waist. “I most humbly beg your forgiveness, Professor Granger for my meddling, and am very sorry to hear that you were injured. Headmaster, I thank you for tending to her, and also apologize to you for any inconvenience my trick’s imposed on your evening.” 

Hermione broke into a bright smile. “Oh, don’t worry, Malfoy. I’ll think of some way you can make it up to me.” 

“Apology accepted. After all, I rather think this trick turned into a treat, don’t you, Hermione?” Severus couldn’t help but join in the fun of Draco-baiting and pulled Hermione’s face to his for a scorching kiss that he didn’t bother to interrupt when Draco’s insensate body hit the rug with a satisfying thump. Neither did he come up for air when Narcissa, swearing as only a pureblooded witch knew how, took both her son and her leave of the couple, swiftly.

When he finally released Hermione from the kiss she was pleasantly dazed and breathless as she declared, “Best fucking Halloween  _ ever _ .” 

With a lap full of Hermione, Severus silently agreed. 

  
->> * Finite Incantatum * <<-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lunap999 and Qdrew for your beta expertise.


End file.
